Your Life shall chaffer in the market-place,
A merchant trading in the goods of grief.
Your Life shall chaffer in the market-place,
A merchant trading in the goods of grief.
Your Life shall bend and o'er his shuttle toil,
A weaver weaving at the loom of grief.
Your Life shall moil i' the ground, and plant his seed,
A farmer foisoning a huge crop of grief.
Your Life shall sweat 'twixt anvil and hot forge,
An armorer working at the sword of grief.
Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The throbbing of the hearts of half the world.
Not larger than two eyes, they lie
Beneath the many-changing sky
And mirror all of life and time,
-- Serene and dainty pantomime.
Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain:
How may the death of that dull insect be
The life of yon trim Shakespeare on the tree?
Your Life shall go to battle with his bow,
A soldier fighting in defence of grief.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories